


Unconditional Heartbreaker

by belovedhell



Series: Two Souls, One Aching Heart [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of a Case, Anger, Anorexia, Depression, Emotional Baggage, Guilt, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Sam/Original Male Character, Off-screen Relationship(s), Strained Relationships, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tears, Unrequited Love, somewhat dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 03:25:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11683029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedhell/pseuds/belovedhell
Summary: Dean found out the truth about Sam: that he was in love with him. Everything changed after that, Dean could no longer be next to Sam without tensing and cringing. Without realizing, Sam was slowly breaking down and began to have dark thoughts. What was the point of living if Dean was basically killing him mentally and emotionally?





	Unconditional Heartbreaker

**Author's Note:**

> This is the aftermath of a case. I didn't want to go into detail because when I do a second part it will be the prequel. Basically it was a truth spell by a witch. I think this is the first story I did that has so much freaking angst. Also, when Sam hooks up with the guy, I pretended it was Alec (same name I used) from Dark Angel because it was so much easier. You can do that too. Comments and Kudos are lovely and appreciated.
> 
> *Excuse the errors. I know there's a lot since I forgot to proofread this. I'll come back and do it whenever I have time.

Sam stared out the window, watching the landscape they were passing. Then he focused on the reflection as he tilted his head. Sam discreetly gazed at his older brother.

Dean was eyeing the road with narrowed eyes, his lips slightly moving as he sang whatever song he put on. Sam wasn't listening, instead he stared at him, lovingly. When he caught a glimpse of Dean's eyes snapping towards his direction, Sam closed his eyes, praying that Dean didn't catch him.

He didn't.

Slowly, Sam peeked at his reflection and saw the Dean went back to focusing on the road, thank God. That was a close call.

"When we get to a motel... we're getting separate rooms." Dean hesitated in the beginning, then firmly stated their new arrangement.

Sam's heart stopped, his breath hitched and he couldn't stop his head from spinning. He didn't even realize that he had cocked his head to Dean's side. He gulped and forced his voice to come out because he was suddenly speechless. He never expected Dean to go to such an extent.

"W-Whatever makes you feel better, Dean," Sam's tone lingered with hurt and sorrow. "You know I would never do anything to you, right?" Sam needed Dean to believe that. "I know my feelings—"

Dean cringed, causing Sam's lips to quiver.

"I would never touch you, Dean. Jesus. I'd rather you kick my ass or let a monster maul me to death first." Sam's hands rested on his lap. He kept rubbing his pants, wiping away sweat that collected on his palms. When did it get hot in the car?

Dean didn't answer.

Sam began to wheeze when he felt a tight pressure in his chest. He couldn't let this go on. Sam went up close to Dean, grasping onto his shoulder, clawing his denim jacket.

The car swirled a bit, but Sam still hadn't let go.

"Dean, you know I would never hurt you. You believe me, right?" Sam cried. "I'm your little brother, remember? You know me. You took care of me. Whatever fucked up thing I have going on in my head won't be there for long! It'll go away."

Finally, Dean turned his head and said, "Let go of me, Sam." And just like that Sam sat back at his spot. Terrified that he would make Dean furious. That was the last thing Sam wanted.

Dean cranked up the radio, leaving Sam with worried thoughts.

* * *

Everything drastically changed after that. Dean had been distant and reserved. He could no longer look at Sam in the face like before. There was no longer touches between them. No shoulder touching. No fingers brushing together. No leg pats. Nothing.

It killed Sam because that was the one thing that made him happy, having little physical contact with Dean.

Dean was weary around him now, almost alert. The trust was completely gone and it would take forever to fix it. If that was even a possibility.

It fucking sucked. It went on like that for a whole week.

As they drove in an abandoned house late at night, Sam stood next to Dean as he opened the trunk of the Impala. He became serious when it came to hunting— the only time Dean didn't ignore him— and often tossed a weapon to Sam's direction. A shotgun packed with salt.

"We have a simple ghost problem," Dean informed, "I did some research on it."

Sam frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. Dean never did research. It was always Sam. "I also did research," Sam added, rushing. "A girl named Mindy was murdered here by—"

"Her parents," Dean finished. "Yeah. I know, Sam. What part of 'I did research' did you not understand?" A bit harsh, but Sam shut his mouth after that.

Dean slammed the trunk shut, making Sam grimace. He was never rough with Baby unless he was pissed.

They entered the house and split up. Dean took the kitchen and living room, while Sam took the bedrooms. Sam found old scattered toys on the girl's room. He kicked a few of them away as he inspected the closet. Nothing.

He went into another bedroom where there was nothing but a rusty metal bed. As Sam stared at the window he noticed that the windows were nailed shut. Weird. Taking a closer look on the wooden floor, he could see carved lines and scratches everywhere. What was in here?

"Sam! C'mere," Dean called through the hallway.

Sam headed back to his brother, still keeping a good hold on the shotgun while he exited out.

"What's wrong? Find anything?" he followed Dean's voice all the way to the kitchen.

"You tell me." Dean opened the stove wide open to reveal beheaded dolls that were melted halfway, only their glass eyeballs showing true color.  _Blue_. It made Sam shiver in disgust.

"That's not creepy at all," Sam commented sarcastically.

"I'm thinking the parents treated the girl like shit and killed her, then the girl comes back and murders them. Right?" Something didn't add up.

Sam shook his head, disagreeing. "Doesn't make sense. If the ghost got its revenge then why is it still here? After so many years? It should've faded into the afterlife, don't you think?" This ghost should already be done with the living, yet it still was hanging around the property causing chaos to anybody who trespassed.

Dean hummed. "Bobby did say that a ghost could turn evil and lose its way of thinking if on here for too long."

"Still." Sam pursed his lips. "We have to find a way to get rid of the poltergeist."

"Let's just torch all the girl's stuff. That's gotta work—"

"No. We have to do more research. I think something is missing." Sam didn't think it was more than a salt and burn with the girl. But he could've been wrong.

"You said you did research," Dean snorted, kicking the stove door shut.

"You're the one all mighty about the research. So you tell me?" He countered with a huff.

Both glared at one another, anger lacing in their voices because neither of them did their job correctly. They didn't have all the facts and they were missing something, and neither of them any idea what it was.

For the first time they did the job half-assed, and it was unacceptable.

It was obvious that hunting was going to be a bit difficult and awkward to do from now on. Sam knew that and had accepted it, however if Dean was going to be acting like a douche... he'd rather do the job himself.

"Look. I get that you're uncomfortable to be around me," Sam said firmly, "but don't do that when we're hunting. We're professionals out here. This is business, nothing personal comes out here, okay?"

Dean was quiet before he answered in a gruff voice. "Fine, Sammy."

"Good." Sam turned away, feeling emotional that Dean couldn't even make the effort to take him seriously. Hunting came first. That was what their dad had taught him after all. "I'll be in the car."

Sam waited in the car alone for a good ten minutes before Dean slid into the driver's seat. He clutched onto the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, never once did Dean glance at Sam as he turned on the ignition and drove off.

Neither of them talked. Dean didn't turn the radio on either. The ride back to the motel was filled with silence and anger.

* * *

Back at the room, Sam was on his side, desperately holding a pillow against his ear. He could hear the wanton moans from the next room, the bed creaking and hitting the wall, going  _thump_  and  _thump_.

His heart wouldn't stop racing, wouldn't stop aching, and wouldn't stop breaking.

Dean could be heard, praising the girl he was with that night. "Fuck, has anybody ever told you you are the prettiest thing ever? Seriously, sweetheart, the prettiest thing I've ever laid my eyes on."

Sam clutched the pillow harder. The corner of his eyes swelling with tears as he kept hearing Dean's voice. How he wished Dean would talk to him like that? Praise and hold him.

He was torturing himself hearing this. Although, a part of him wondered if Dean was doing this purposely. They had heard people having sex in the motels in the past because of thin walls. Dean would joke about making it a competition to see who was the loudest. Sam laughed every time.

Sam drowned the noise as he blinked his tears away and forced himself to fall asleep.

* * *

The sun wasn't up yet, but the sky was turning light blue. Sam woke up early to jog around the area. He needed to take his mind off things if he was going to be around Dean. He jogged for an hour until he saw the horizon, rays of light slowly hitting his face.

He panted, his lungs burning from lack of oxygen. Sam had his legs on his knees as he watched something that could never change: the view.

When Sam got back to the motel parking lot, he rolled his eyes when the  _girl_  Dean fucked last night quietly sneaked out of his room. Of course. Sam scoffed before entering his room.

Sam showered, changed, and made himself a cheap cup of coffee that the room provided. Then he did research on the case. He had been so distracted that he didn't look into all the details.

He needed to try harder. He couldn't have his emotions getting the best out of him. Also, he wanted to prove to Dean that he was the researcher between the two of them.

So, yeah, he was a bit competitive. Sue him.

Sam found out that Mindy was a sick little girl: diagnosed with asthma at age five. She had an accident and was rushed off to the hospital. Sam read the newspapers online. They were some neighbors who reported seeing Mindy with bruises and cuts on her legs and arms. The police investigated the parents, but nothing came out of it but denial and anger.

There was nothing else about it.

Sam closed his computer in frustration. It was obvious the family was hiding something. But what?

"Sam?" Dean called him, knocking. "You up yet?"

Padding towards the door, Sam let him in— since Dean was okay being in the same room as Sam during the day— Sam watched in amusement as Dean made himself coffee. There were times that Dean shifted back to his old self without realizing, then he would revert back to his reserved self.

Sam never called him out on it. Mostly because Dean needed the space.

"Did you research the case?" Dean asked.

"No. I thought I would leave that to you," Sam scoffed. Yeah, he was being childish, but Dean was being a bitch yesterday.

Dean gulped down his coffee, then said, "I didn't have time. If you know what I mean?" Ouch. So he was doing it on purpose.

Sam's eyes lowered and ducked down, hurt and shocked. He never expected Dean to  _mock_  him.

He forced himself to talk, even though his throat was dry and raspy. "Y-Yeah." Sam cleared his throat. "We better get going." He grabbed his shoes, avoiding Dean's gaze. "We have to talk to the neighbors who lived next door. Think they might know something that went on in that house."

Dean opened his mouth, ready to apologize, but nothing came out of his mouth. He knew he hurt Sam. But he couldn't find the courage to say sorry. Instead he followed Sam outside and started their day.

They drove to the same area they were yesterday night, although this time they parked across the street where the neighbors resided. As they rang the bell, they waited patiently until someone opened the door, revealing a middle aged lady.

"Yes, how I can I help you?" she asked.

Dean smiled sweetly and said, "Hi. I'm Dean and this is my brother Sam." Sam waved at her. "I came to visit my cousin that lives right across you." He pointed to the house. "But I've noticed that it's been abandoned for years. I haven't even seen my cousin and niece, little Mindy." Dean pretended to frown, causing Sam to mentally facepalm himself. His brother was an incredible and believable liar.

"Oh dear..." The lady— Martha— put her hand across her heart and her lips formed into a thin line. "I'm sorry to be the one telling you this but that family has been dead for six years."

Dean gasped. "No!"

"I'm afraid so."

Sam spoke up before Dean could say anymore. "Do you know what happened?"

Martha paused. "I heard that the parents mysteriously died. Poor things. The husband had a heart attack and the wife fell down the stairs. It certainly was strange."

"What about Mindy?"

"Ah, yes. Mindy," she said the name, as if she forgot about her. "She was odd— Would you gentlemen like to come in? I'm afraid my legs are starting to hurt from standing too much." She went inside before the boys could answer.

Sam stared at Dean, who made the gesture to go in first. Once inside, they say down on the soft, brown couch. The living room was small and filled with miniature statues of animals and angels. It cast a weird vibe over the room.

"Those things are looking at me!" Dean whispered loudly, moving side to side to test the statue's movement.

"Dean, quit staring—"

"Where were we?" Martha asked, bring a tray of tea, then said, "Oh yes! We were talking about Mindy. She was a sweet girl but very quiet. She never left the house. I assumed her parents were very protective of her." She placed the tray on the coffee table and sat down on a rocking chair.

"Did you happen to see any bruises on her? I remember Mindy was a klutz." Dean chuckled at the memory that he just made up.

"I did— I'm sorry. I don't mean to be disrespectful or offend you— Maybe I should say anything."

"No, please do. We have to know," Sam said.

"I believe her parents were hurting Mindy, physically. She had dark bruises on her neck and legs. I felt sorry for that poor thing. I wondered if her brother suffered the same treatment—"

"Wait— What? Brother?" Dean questioned. Sam was just as confused. There was no report of the family having another child.

Martha peered at them. "Yes. Mindy had a brother named Timothy. A year older than her, according to the mom." This changed everything. Mindy was seven when she died: got hit in the head with a hard object.

Timothy must have been eight at the time.

"Have you ever met the boy?"

Martha shook her head. "No. He was never permitted outside the house. I've only seen him from the windows when he was peeking out."

"Did he also die?" Dean wondered.

"I'm afraid so. He just vanished." Martha took a sip of her tea.

Sam's eyes widened in realization. The room where the carved lines on the floor and window nailed shut; that was where Timothy was hidden. His parents kept him trapped for most of his life. But why?

"Well, thank you for your time, madam," Sam said, standing up to shake her hand. Dean made a what-the-hell face.

"No problem, gentlemen. It was a pleasure."

They left Martha's house and walked back to the Impala. Once out of earshot, Dean turned on him. "What the fuck, Sam! We still don't know jack shit."

"I think I do."

"What is it, Mr. Know It All?" Dean asked in a sarcastic tone.

"I think Timothy is behind everything. He's the poltergeist." Sam crossed his arms to think. "What if he killed his parents and his sister?"

Dean's forehead creased and then he turned around to catch a glimpse of the abandoned house. "Reason being? I mean it could be a possibility... I guess."

"I saw Timothy's room, Dean! That room was like a prison. No window access. No toys around. No wall paper. The wooden floor is marked like some sort of wild animal. It makes sense." Sam flopped down on the passenger seat of the car.

Dean was beside him, tapping the steering wheel in deep thought. "I just don't understand why that kid wasn't anywhere online. It was like he didn't exist. Maybe the family had something to hide after all."

"How are we going to find out the truth?"

"Simple. We go back to the house and look around thoroughly. Let's come back tonight." Dean started the car and put on an annoying song, much to Sam's dismay.

At least Dean was being professional while they were doing their job. Close enough.

* * *

Going back to an abandoned housed in the middle of the night,  _twice_ , seemed like a bad idea. Sam and Dean stalked towards Timothy's room, scanning the room for any evidence of their theory.

"Jesus. You weren't kidding. This place looks like a lockdown." Dean eyed the walls and floors.

"We have to find—" Sam was cut off as the door slammed shut and the bed was tossed to their direction.

"Sam, duck!" Dean dropped to the ground, while Sam rolled to the side.

Dean kicked down the door and said, "Sam, let's go! This thing is mad. We have to find something to torch." As they ran across the hall, they could see the spirit of the young boy. Dean shot it. "That'll buy us five minutes."

Sam and Dean scattered around once again, looking through drawers and cabinets, anything to help them. There was nothing but dust and cobweb lying around. Shit. Next, they rushed into the parent's bedroom.

It was semi-empty, besides the bed and a nightstand. Dean swung the closet door open, only to be met with nothing.

"Fuck! Nothing at all!" Dean snapped.

Sam peered above the closet. He could see a dark box hidden near the corner. "Dean, look up." He tapped his shoulder. "There's a box up there." Sam reached for it. Once he got a grip on it, he knelt down to the ground with Dean next to him.

Dean took the lid off. What the fuck? Make up? Dolls? Hello Kitty?

"What's all this?" He pulled out a wig. "I'll say this again. This is fucking creepy."

While Dean was inspecting the items in the box, Sam picked up the photos stuck at the edge. It was Mindy in all the pictures: she wore the same saddened expression. As Sam moved to the last photo, he gasped, causing Dean to snap his head towards him.

"What?"

"There was never a second child in this family... it was only one." Sam shook his head in disbelief.

"What are you talking about?" Dean pursed his lips.

"Mindy never existed, Dean. Timothy was Mindy!" Sam stated, turning the photo around, revealing a picture of Timothy crossed out. "Don't you get it. The family forced him into this. That explained the bruises and cuts. He was being abused. The parents probably wanted a little girl, so they decided to make Timothy into one."

Dean stared at Sam for a moment, before looking down the box, then back at his brother again. "That explains why there was no evidence of Timothy anywhere. Just Mindy... dressed up. And I thought our family was crazy." Also explained for the melted dolls in the oven.

"Yeah." Sam frowned upon hearing the comment.

"Guess I was right. We do have to burn the girl's— I mean, the boy's toys," Dean amended.

Sam nodded.

Thankfully the poltergeist wasn't too aggressive, since it was merely a child. Just simple things being thrown at them and the house shaking a bit. Nothing two hunters couldn't handle.

They burned and salt the toys in the backyard after they dug a big hole. Sam felt sad for the little boy because he had insane parents. He was probably killed because he didn't want to be what his parents wanted. Timothy just wanted to be himself.

"Do you think it was right that he killed his parents?" Sam asked, watching the stuffed animals slowly burn.

"I don't know. Maybe. Sometimes it can't be helped." Dean saw sitting on the grass, leg folded upwards. "People are crazy."

They didn't say much after that. Instead they waited until the fire die down.

* * *

It was different after that. Dean did more effort to communicate while they were out hunting than when they were as brothers. Dean still tensed when Sam stood inches away from him... which was understandable.

Sam decided to respect Dean by giving him extra space.

Dean went out a lot. He never invited Sam.

Sam was always stuck in his room, either doing research or channel surfing. He could go out if he wanted to, but what was the point? The only good place near them was a simple bar that Dean would occupy every time.

Yeah. Sam didn't need his brother to throw a fit for him being there, watching his every movements.

It went like that for three weeks before Dean slowly began to relax around him again. Not the way they used to be, not by a long shot. But with simple things like getting him breakfast or putting a song he enjoyed on the radio. Slowly, they were returning to real brothers once again. It took two more weeks before Dean invited Sam to go to the bar with him to drink.

Sam counted that as a win.

* * *

Sam drank his beer alone. Dean had left him to go talk to the waitress in the back room. What did he expect anyway? Sam was just happy that they were hanging out again. It had been two long, harsh months without being close to his brother.

This was enough. At least that's what he told himself.

He gazed around the room. Sam needed to get his mind off Dean just for a moment. He needed to get laid. It had been a long time. Besides, Dean was probably having fun, so why shouldn't Sam?

His eyes landed on a young man who bared a similar resemblance to Dean: blond hair, colored eyes, and cocky smile. Sam licked his lips. His body wouldn't stop trembling and his heart kept bouncing around. He should stop drinking, but Sam was so nervous to walk up to the guy.

Sam downed his beer and rose from his seat, never taking his eyes away from the newcomer.

"H-Hi," Sam uttered out. Holy shit! Up close the guy looked fucking young. Maybe in his late teens. Sam was playing with fire.

"Hey." The guy raised his eyebrow, clearly not impressed. "Can I help you with something? I don't want any trouble."

"I'm Sam," he blurted out, blushing. "Fuck!" Sam turned away and said, "Never mind. S-Sorry to bother you." He rushed to his seat and groaned, he couldn't believe he couldn't go through with it.

But hell... the guy was almost Dean's replica.

He flopped down on his seat and ordered another beer from the bartender. His face was flushed, and not from the alcohol, mostly because he just embarrassed himself in front of a guy. Sam face-palmed himself as he let out a shaky breath.

"Whoa. No need to go all emo on me." The guy slid his elbow on the counter with a smug grin, leaning close to Sam.

Sam flinched as he heard someone's voice, he lowered his hand and did a side-glance. The stranger didn't sound like Dean... however the way he spoke was spot on alike.

"I don't usually do that," Sam rushed out. "I just wanted to greet you. Didn't mean to scare you." Sam seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Scare people.

The young man snorted. He pulled out the chair next to Sam. "Mind if I sit here?" Sam's mouth parted, then closed when the guy sat down anyway. Yup. Exactly alike.

"So you're Sam, right?" Sam nodded. "Cool. I'm Alec."

Alec, Sam mentally said it.

It was awkward after that. Alec ordered himself a drink, while Sam secretly kept looking at him on and off. How could he not stare? Did guy could might as well be related to Sam?

Sam jumped when Alec spoke up. "Tell me about yourself."

There was so much to tell. Instead of saying of a simple lie like he would usually do, he glanced at Alec, who was also watching him with a gaze that Sam had seen when Dean looked at girls. Lust. Sam cleared his throat before answering, "I'm a hunter." He waited for Alec's reaction.

"I didn't peg you for one," Alec admitted. "You seemed more like a professor, telling students to stay in school and not do drugs." The bartender lay his drink down and walked away to attend other costumers. Alec continued, "What animals do you hunt?"

Of course Alec would think that. Animals. Sam shouldn't even be having a conversation, not when he was buzzed and having filthy thoughts about Alec.

"Whatever I can." Sam took a sip from his beer.

Alec hummed, then slowly, he scooted his chair closer, leaning his body near Sam's. Their elbows and thighs touched. Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. He hadn't turned to look at Alec. He couldn't yet.

Sam eyed his surroundings. He needed to see that his brother wasn't around. Watching him. Dean was nowhere in sight. He must have done something wrong since Alec slanted away from his touch. Sam's stomach churned when Alec smacked his glassware down.

"You know, you really give mixed signals here." Alec huffed, glaring at the counter. He made an attempt to get up and reached into his pants.

Sam had to do something. He really wanted to go somewhere with this. Alec grabbed his wallet from his back pocket and threw a couple of dollars on the counter.

Making a bold movement, Sam placed his hand on his upper thigh, trying to hint Alec. No words would come out of his mouth. Sam's throat was dry and scratchy. Not sure if it was because of the beer or the sudden nervousness coursing through his mind. Either way, he had to let Alec know he wanted more.

Alec tensed, then relaxed on Sam's touch and sat down again, moving near him once again.

"Well, aren't you a gentleman?" Alec smirked. His hand was now resting on top of Sam, gripping onto palm before he moved his hand higher.

Sam bit his lips as he felt Alec's bulge underneath his jeans. He could feel his own cock throbbing and aching. Sam put his thighs together to get some sort of friction, or something, to stop his cock from swelling up. They were still in public, Jesus Christ.

Alec was fucking kinky.

"I have a motel room not far from here," Sam breathed. His fingers caressed his bulge, prompting Alec to cuss lowly. Sam could feel his own heart racing with excitement. Fuck. He wanted this so bad. "What do you say?" Now he was beyond glad he and Dean had separated rooms.

"Y-Yeah. That sounds good— Holy shit!" Alec propped his elbow on the counter so he could lean against it, his head lolled down and eyes shut as Sam kept rubbing, harder and faster. "Fucker!" he said without venomt.

Sam would never in a million years have the guts to do this, but the rush of blood went straight to his head.

Alec craned his neck to make sure no passersby were seeing them. He only saw a girl stalking passed them, not even paying to what they were doing. Great. Alec pushed Sam's hand away and uttered, "Let's get out of here. I don't want to come in a sleazy bar. Especially just by you touching me."

Sam couldn't agree more. As they rushed out of the place, both their arms tangled around their backs and attacked each other's mouth. Sam fucking lost it. All thoughts spiraled out the window as he pinned Alec against the wall. There was no time to go to the motel. He wanted to do it now. In an ally.

No one could see them in the dark. The night sky was completely dark since clouds covered the moon. Alec nipped his lips and a hand slithered in his pants. Sam's hips jerked forward, desperately wanting to be touch.

"Slow down, baby. I'm getting there," Alec whispered in his ear. Sam gasped when Alec reached for his pulsing cock. "All this for me? You shouldn't have." Sam's head dropped onto his shoulder. Alec was a fucking tease, and he loved it.

Abruptly, Alec switched their positions, until Sam was on his back. Sam's eyes widened as Alec sank onto his knees and started to undo his pants, fumbling with his zipper and finally pulling down his pants. Sam panted in relief when his erection was no longer trapped in thick denim.

His tilted forward, mouth slack once his boxers were down too. Alec wasted no time to wrap his fingers around it and took the dick in one swift movement into his mouth. Alec must have been an expert since he didn't even gag.

Sam cried out in pleasure. He hadn't had a blowjob in a long time, not since he was in college. Two years ago. He forgot how good it felt to have someone sucking him, to feel the warmth and tongue swirling around his head.

Gazing down with hooded eyes, Sam blinked when he saw that Alec was looking directly at him while he bopped his head up and down. Alec's eyes were narrowed and filled with determination and another emotion that Sam couldn't figure out in his state.

His chest heaved and his shaky legs were turning into jelly. Sam tugged Alec's short hair and then he squeezed his eyes shut as he felt a spark building up through his body. "A-Alec... Going to-" Sam's voice cracked when Alec increased his speed.

Sam bit his fingers to contain his moans. "Ah!" Sam's scream was muffled as he came inside Alec's mouth, filling his mouth and a bit of come fell out of his lips. Alec licked it right up. Sam's hips jerked a few more times before his body sagged against the wall, letting the afterglow overtake him.

That was the most intense blowjob he ever had.

Both were panting and had blushes matching.

Suddenly both heard the click of a gun across them. Sam froze in fear as he saw Dean standing there with blazing eyes. He pointed the gun below, directly at Alec, who immediately climbed to his feet.

"What the fuck!" Alec took a step back.

"Get the fuck away from him!" Dean snapped, pointing the gun to Sam before resting back on him. Sam fumbled to pick up his boxer and pants, not even fixing himself properly as he stood in front of Alec.

"Dean, stop it. He didn't do anything wrong," Sam explained. "We were just having fun." Sam couldn't see him clearly due to not much lighting, but he could make out that his hands were clenched and his mouth was grinding.

"Get over here, Sam. Now." Dean ordered.

Sam gulped, then answered, "No."

Alec grasped his shoulder. "You know this psycho!" he exclaimed. Sam slowly nodded as he cast him a glance.

"Yeah. He's..."

"Oh, he doesn't know who I am," Dean sneered. "Damn, Sam. You must be desperate to have me since you went with a lookalike." Dean eyed Alec.

"Sam, what is he talking about?"

Sam panicked. "Please, Dean. Let me have it this once. Please! You sleep around with so many girls... Why can't I sleep with him?" It was fruitless. Dean shook his head in disgust.

"Why? Seriously, you're asking me that?" He glared at Alec. "Because you only want to fuck him because he looks like me! How do you think that makes me feel, Sam?"

Sam whimpered, but Dean didn't stop there.

"Look, kid," he said towards the stranger, "he's just using you for me. Now run along before I get pissed off more than I already am."

Alec scowled. "So? That doesn't bother me!" he declared.

"It doesn't? Well, how about this then—"

Sam gasped. "Dean, please don't say it! I'll do whatever you want! Please!" Sam begged not to tell Alec his sick secret. Dean ignored his little brother.

"I'm his  _brother_."

Alec let go of Sam and took a hasty stepped back as he stared at Sam with such distaste. Sam twirled around. "Wait, Alec—"

"That's disgusting!" Alec hissed. "You're sick, Sam. You need serious help." Alec pushed Sam aside and ran passed Dean, who simply moved away. Alec was gone. Sam fell onto his knees and hung his head down in shame.

He stared at the ground with watery eyes, tearing falling down his face. He couldn't believe that Dean did such a thing. Sam heard footsteps approaching him, yet he still didn't look at him. He wasn't mad at Dean. Sam shouldn't be because he deserved it for the sick twisted thoughts that wouldn't go away.

"If you ever do that again, find someone who looks like me. I'll make sure we hunt separated. Got it?" Dean threatened, standing in front of him.

Sam could only see his boots from below, then he lifted his head up and said, "Yes, Dean."

Whatever connection they had back was now gone again because Sam fucked up.

* * *

Days, weeks, had gone by and it was a blur to Sam. He hardly talked now, only when Dean was speaking to him or asking a question. Other than that Sam was quiet. He slept through every ride, ignoring Dean's voice when he tried to explain their next case.

He was never in the mood to listen.

Sam wasn't angry at Dean. He just stopped trying. Sam screwed up when he tried to sleep with someone that looked like his brother. Dean never mentioned it and Sam was grateful he didn't. He didn't need more guilt on his shoulders.

Dean would do simple conversations, then talked about the past, about stupid shit they did and how they got away with it. Sam would smile, happy that Dean brought up all the good memories between them. It didn't take too long to figure out the reason behind them. Dean was trying to make Sam see that they were nothing but brothers, nothing more and nothing less.

Now all Sam would do when Dean recalled the past was zoned out. He'd stared at the sky or at the passing fields, never once answering Dean.

While Sam was slowly being driven to depression, Dean was relying on booze to help him. Both boys were slowly breaking and they had no clue how to fix it at this point.

* * *

Sam sighed as he shut his computer and pushed it away. He rubbed his eyes and blinked. He shouldn't strain his eyes upon doing late night research. He slumped against the couch and let out a puff of air. It was strangely quiet, which was no surprise since it was just Sam in the room.

But he didn't hear the bed creaking from the next room. No moans or grunts from Dean or girls. It was a quiet night indeed. Sam's lips quirked up in relief, he didn't have to suffer for the first time. He wondered if Dean was still out— and if that was the case, he shouldn't be happy— or if he was in his room drinking by himself.

The first one seemed more reasonable.

Sam's head dropped back in a soft  _thud_ , staring at the cracking ceiling. He was tired. Of everything. Not only that but he craved the touch of someone. He craved Dean.

He unbuttoned his flannel shirt and skimmed his fingers over his skin. Sam licked his upper lip. He could pretend. No one had to know. Dean certainly wouldn't. It was fucked up... but Sam needed it.

Sam shivered when his nipples were touched. He was very sensitive. Sam's eyes fluttered closed as his mind began to create a little fantasy. He took his half-hard cock out of his sweatpants and squeezed it. Sam moaned on the touch. He felt pre-come dripping down his head and onto his hand.

Fuck. It felt so good.

Dean appeared in his head. The image of him in nothing but briefs; his muscular torso, broad shoulders, and strong biceps that were easily noticeable. His bow legs that made Sam melt into a puddle whenever he walked. Dean was gorgeous.

Sam stroked his erection, arching his back a little as he was already building up. He used his other free hand to caress his chest, imagining his brother doing this to him. Sam mewled and stroked quicker.

He was close. He was going to—

 _Knock_.  _Knock_.

Somebody was knocking on his door...

Sam groaned from the interruption. He huffed and tucked his hurting erection back in his clothes. Who the fuck was it at this time? Sam opened the door with glaring eyes, ready to tell the person to piss off. Yeah he was angry. They ruined his fantasy.

However, as he saw Dean wriggling his eyebrows and a stupid grin plastered on his face. Sam knew he was drunk. Sam deflated.

"Dean? What are you doing here? It's already late," Sam stated, turning to glance at the clock on his nightstand. It was two-thirty am.

"Wanted to see what you were up to." Dean hiccupped as he waltzed into the room like he owned the damn place. Sam couldn't stop him, not even when Dean dropped down on  _his_  bed.

Sam merely peered at him, confused that his brother would even go into his room. He was drunk but not stupid.

"Dean, you need to go back to your room," he chided, padded to the bed. He patted his calf.

"C'mon. Get up." Dean didn't move from his spot, instead he snuggled onto the sheets and pillow.

"Go to your bed, Sammy. I'm tired."

Sam's heart broke. Dean believed that they were still sharing a room together. Sam averted his gaze and sat on the edge of the bed. "Just how much did you drink..." Sam covered his face with his shaky hands as he cried.

Dean was slowly becoming an alcoholic and Sam couldn't do a damn thing about it... because Dean wouldn't let him.

Neither of them had a good night sleep.

* * *

As they bought snacks from a sketchy gas station, Sam frowned when he witnessed Dean drinking a bottle of Jack. He glanced at his phone. "Jesus Christ, Dean! It's barely noon. Why are you drinking this early?" Sam cocked his head to meet Dean's gaze.

"Because I can, Sam. Besides, not that early," Dean insisted. He tossed Sam a protein bar. "Eat it and shut up."

Sam fumed, but he didn't protest. He didn't want to argue right now.

"Where are we going now?" Sam asked instead, grasping onto the stupid bar. He wasn't hungry, hasn't been for a few days now.

"I was thinking Vegas. See hot women dancing, play some poker, like the dogs in the painting." Dean entered the car and took another swing of his Jack.

"I'm being serious here, Dean!" Sam snapped. This was another thing that was making Sam grind his teeth so hard his jaws were starting to ache. Dean would bring up women, about everything, it made Sam want to punch his brother. Not sure it was because he loved to mess with Sam, or implying that he should do the same: sleep with women.

"So am I. C'mon, Sam. We could go to a girl's strip club together." Dean wriggled his eyebrow, then stopped before he smirked. "Or... we could go to a guy's strip club?"

Sam scowled. "Fuck off, Dean! Whatever you're trying to do isn't go to work, okay? I can't do what you do. Be a  _whore_!" he didn't realize he was shouting until he was out of breath.

Dean seemed puzzled, then he averted his gaze as he lifted the Jack to his lips. Sam glared at him, waiting for some comeback for Dean to defend himself. But he didn't.

"Well, we better get going. Have a long drive ahead of us."

Sam suddenly felt awful, he knew that Dean was hurt with the way he kept looking at his window. Dean cleared his throat and dropped the Jack beside him. Without thinking, Sam touched his arm, knowing full well that Dean could clock. And he should. Sam deserved it.

"I'm sorry," Sam said lowly.

Dean sighed. He shook Sam's hand off and said, "Yeah. Well... Nothing like the beach can't fix. You still love that right?"

"Yes. The only place I can see my hair flowing in the wind," Sam tried to brighten the mood.

Dean chuckled. "Oh yeah. There you could be Samantha." Sam nudged his ribs with his elbow, then both laughed. Just like old times.

* * *

Sam didn't touch his salad. He didn't know why he bought one if he wasn't hungry, although he thought he could have a nibble or something. He wasn't eating properly. When he checked himself in the bathroom's mirror... he could see cheekbones were getting thinner and hollow.

He had lost a lot of weight.

As he lifted his shirt, Sam was no longer soft, no, instead he was skinny. His ribs were beginning to press against his skin and his stomach looked as if was curved inwards, nearly flat after not eating daily meals.

Sam shook his head as he tugged his shirt down. He was fine. All he had to do was run more and drink some shakes, then he would be good as new.

Sadly, Sam stopped running in the mornings. He no longer had energy to get up at the crack of dawn. Sam was tired. Exhausted even. No idea why? Whenever they weren't hunting monsters Sam was in the bed sleeping.

All he wanted to do was nothing. Just sleep.

Apparently Sam's new habit was irritating Dean.

Dean could see Sam was acting different, not just with his attitude, but with his personality. Sam didn't laugh at Dean's dirty jokes or scold him for drinking while driving. Sam turned into an empty shell.

They did a small case in Idaho, eaten bodies found piling up in a graveyard. It had ghouls written all over it. Both brothers found the monsters and chopped their heads off with machetes. Then they burned the bodies before anyone could find them.

Sam had been dangerously good at hunting lately, having the last killing blow. He ran after the creatures who tried to escape, Dean watched both in amusement and concern as Sam killed every last one of them. It brought shivers to Dean's spine.

It made him wonder just who this hunter in front of him was, the one who easily— and didn't hesitate— to shoot all the bad sons of a bitches. Blood had smeared across Sam's face one time and it didn't revolt him. Sam just continued to kill.

However, Sam found it pointless to even hunt monsters anymore. After awhile he stopped trying, leaving everything to Dean. Of course Sam still had his back and helped when he needed to. But something dawned to him when they were hunting a werewolf in a small town.

Dean didn't need Sam.

Dean had been more than capable of doing it himself. So why was Sam with him? Why was he still hunting with him?

Dark thoughts filtered through Sam's mind. He was useless... as a brother and a hunter partner. Maybe it was time he should just end it all. Dean didn't love him anymore anyways. What's the point of living if you couldn't be with the person you love?

As Sam was on his couch eyeing the gun on the coffee table. He carefully picked it up and placed the barrel of the gun under his chin. It was cold and heavy. Sam licked his lips, fingers twitching to get a better grip.

This would be quick and painless. There was no point of doing a note since he didn't want to make Dean feel guilty. Sam had turned Dean into their father by drinking every single damn day at odd hours.

Sam closed his eyes as he felt tears formed, a single droplet hitting his cheek. He could do this. Not for himself, but for Dean. Sam was a freak that deserved to be put out of his misery.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I'll always love you," Sam whispered to himself. When he made an attempt to pull the trigger, Sam heard Dean's voice through the door.

"Sam? Hey, I have more information about the werewolf. Can I come in?" Dean asked, knocking. Couldn't he just let him die already?

"Shit," Sam breathed. He hid the gun and rushed to open the door for Dean, haphazardly wiping his eyes. "Yeah, come in. What do you got?"

Dean paused. His lips formed a frown as he saw Sam's face. "Why are you crying?" He cupped his cheek and firmly asked, "Who made you cry? Who's ass do I have to kick!" Dean checked his whole face for any other injuries. Thankfully there was none.

Sam let out a small chuckle. Dean was always protective when it came to Sam crying. He shook his head and removed his hand away before emotional feelings could develop. Now wasn't the time for that.

"I'm fine. Just watched a sad movie," he lied.

Dean didn't take the bait, he pursed his lips and crossed his arms. "Really?"

"It was about dogs."

"Oh..." Dean nodded. "I believe it. You're a crier when it comes with dogs getting killed."

They talked about the werewolf and the possibility where its next location would be. Both left during the night with guns loaded with silver bullets. They tracked the monster near a bar outside of town. However, the werewolf put on a fight as it rushed into woods, prompting the brothers to run after them.

Sam separated from his brother by accident as he almost tripped with a log. He cussed and grabbed his gun, then he tensed when he heard growling noises around him. Sam aimed straight ahead, but there was nothing. The full moon was giving enough light to see what's around his surroundings: broken trees, leaves scattered on the ground, and... a dead body.

He gasped, swiftly crawling away. "Dean!" Sam shouted. A twig breaking could be heard behind Sam, who immediately twirled his gun. Sam climbed to feet but to horror the werewolf tackled him down. It growled and tried to bite him as sharp fangs inched closer to his flesh.

Sam brought his hands to its neck, using all his strength to keep it in its place. He had dropped his gun onto the floor when he was caught by the werewolf's surprise.

The creature clawed his shoulders and torso, but Sam didn't scream; he just grit his teeth together. Sam narrowed his eyes to the werewolf, then got a sick twisted idea. Why kill himself when this thing in front of him could do it?

Sam closed his eyes and let go of his hands. Pain lingered through his body as teeth sunk into his flesh. His body burned when claws dug into his chest and arms. Sam cried in agony. He didn't realize that the monster had stopped attacking as a bullet pierced him.

Then it fell down beside Sam.

Sam wheezed in pain, tears bursting out when he tried to move. Dean knelt next to him, cradling his upper body, and pushing his hair away from his eyes. Sam craned his neck to look at him. When he tried to speak Dean shushed him.

"Don't talk, Sammy. Oh shit..." Dean shook his head. "You're going to be okay." Sam didn't know if Dean was telling him or for himself.

Dean saw the bite wound on his shoulder, blood was still pouring out, causing Dean to press on it with his hand. The gashes on his chest didn't seem too deep unlike the shoulder wound. Dean needed to get him back to the motel room ASAP.

Sam wanted to say 'just leave me here'.

Although, it seemed Sam had lost his voice as his lips moved but words wouldn't come out. And when he forced himself, the words came out as strangled gasps.

"Please. Stop," Dean pleaded. Sam did a weak nod.

Dean managed to pick him up bridal style and rushed towards the Impala. Sam didn't even notice that Dean kept talking to him the entire ride, either shaking him or yelling his name. Sam wanted to sleep. He wanted to have nice vivid dreams of him and Dean, right before Sam fucked everything up.

He just wanted his  _old_  brother back.

Sam ignored Dean as he shut his eyes and passed out.

Two hours later, Sam woke up with his shoulder throbbing from pain. He was shirtless and had bandage rolls wrapped around him. He was back at his motel room, where a fuming Dean was glaring down at him.

"Dean—"

"What the fuck was that, Sam!" Dean practically yelled. "You are one of the best hunters out there and I see you almost get killed by a werewolf!"

"I didn't see it," Sam lied through his teeth.

"Bullshit!" Dean paced around his bed. "You— What you did out there was careless and stupid," Dean exclaimed. "You go from a badass hunter to a fucking dumbass! This ain't Scooby Doo, Sammy. These monsters are real, there's no human underneath that face."

"I said I was sorry, okay?" Sam barked. He didn't need this right now. "Are you pissed off that I almost died?"

"No fucking shit Sherlock!" Dean hissed.

"Why? Wouldn't it have been better for you?" Sam scoffed, and when he turned to see his brother's reaction, he expected anger and hatred. But what he got was worse... disappointment.

"Fuck you, Sam." Dean left and slammed the door shut.

Sam cried himself to sleep that night. And he could've sworn that he heard Dean do the same.

* * *

After Sam healed from his injury, the boys went back to work, itching to get out of the motel they had been staying in for weeks. Their next case involved a lake monster. It wasn't too hard to deal with. Sam dived into the cold water to be bait for the monster. Dean didn't object since Sam was a good swimmer.

It was an easy kill.

Sam pulled himself onto the dock and dropped on his back, breathing in as much oxygen as he could. He shivered from the coldness. His clothes were soaking wet due to not having enough time to take them off as the monster revealed itself.

He heard footsteps on the wooden planks coming closer to him. Sam grinned and said, "Did we just kill Nessi?"

Dean snorted. "I wish. Just a simple swamp monster." He held out his hand to help Sam up. "Go change before you get your ass sick." Sam reached for his hand, feeling Dean's warm hand against his cold one.

Dean must be worried if he was touching him. That was the only exception when it came it personal space. Whenever Sam was hurt, Dean would swoop in and have his arms on Sam, checking for injuries and anything that could be broken. But once Dean was done... he was back to moving away from Sam like he was infected.

It crushed Sam every time.

Sam nodded. As they arrived to the motel Sam went to his single room and fell asleep on the couch. He didn't bother to change as sleep overcame him.

* * *

"Oh man, you should've seen his face, Sammy!" Dean laughed. "The kid nearly pissed his pants when we told him he could go to jail." He cocked his head to his brother, only to frown when Sam wasn't even listening. "Sam?"

Sam was startled. "What? Sorry. Zoned out." That was becoming a major problem for Sam. He kept spacing out and didn't talk much anymore.-

"I said— Oh forget it," Dean scoffed, eyes returning to the road.

Sam didn't say anything, which further irritated Dean.

They stopped by a diner to eat. They hadn't had anything to eat since last night. Both sat down a booth in silence. Sam's eyes were hooded and dull, there was no emotion showing whatsoever.

It terrified Dean.

"So... What are you getting to eat?" he asked.

Sam raised his head, meeting Dean's eyes, then said, "I'm not hungry." He went back to lowering his head down.

Dean shook his head. "You have to eat something. Get your stupid healthy salad." Now that he got a good look on Sam... Dean realized that he was pale and thin from his face, like he hadn't been eating. "Better yet, get a burger! Sam, you're skinny!" How could Dean not have noticed before?

"I'm fine," he said firmly.

Dean fumed. "I need you to—"

"What can I get you two gentlemen?" An upbeat waitress said.

Dean stopped to look at the waitress, instantly smiling and winking at her. "Why hello, sweetheart?" Sam tilted his head to look at the huge window, watching the light blue sky. It was pretty outside.

Sam saw birds roaming the sky, flying and gliding through the winds. Not a care in the world because they were free. Not trapped like how he felt at that moment.  _I wish I was a bird_ , Sam mentally thought.

Dean slammed his hand on the table, grabbing Sam's attention as he jumped. "W-What?"

"The nice girl over here was asking you a question!" Dean hissed.

"Oh. What was it again?" Sam questioned.

The waitress rolled her eyes. "What do you want on your sides for your burger?" She tapped on her foot.

Sam blinked. "I didn't ask for a burger," he said, dumbly.

"No. Your cute older brother did." She winked at him, making Sam nauseated and hurt all over. Then her expression shifted to annoyance as she gazed back at Sam. "Well?"

"V-Veggies," Sam whispered, slightly shuddering. He felt like he couldn't breathe, his lungs were getting tight like they were on fire. Sam needed to leave. He squirmed out of his seat, pushing himself up.

"Sam? Where hell are you going?" Dean exclaimed. "Sam!"

Sam couldn't hear him. All he could hear was the pounding in his ears and everything was spinning for him. His eyes were focused and then unfocused. What was wrong with him?

Suddenly, Dean yanked him by his jacket's collar, both locking gaze. Sam's breath hitched as he looked into Dean face. He was upset. Everybody in the diner were staring at them. Sam felt like he was in a freak show.

In his mind everybody was pointing and laughing at him, calling him: freak, sicko, and disgusting. Sam was beginning to feel frantic. The waitress had moved away from them, mostly Sam.

Sweat beaded down his forehead and his face was burning up with how hot the place was. Sam tried to leave, but Dean kept a firm hold on him.

"Stop acting like an asshole and sit down," Dean growled. Sam looked at him, then writhed around. Dean's eyes turned black and his teeth were pointy. 'What's the matter, Sam?' It said. 'Don't you love me anymore, sick brother?'

Dean cussed as he tried to calm his brother.

"Do you want me to call the cops?" the waitress asked.

Snapping his head towards her, Dean snarled at what she just said. "No! He's my brother."

Dean didn't care if he was scaring her. Nobody was going to take Sam away from him.

Sam managed to get away from Dean and bolted out of the diner. Dean shouted his name but Sam didn't listen. He kept running and running. He scanned the sky hoping for an answer— Then he heard birds cawing from above, with wide eyes he followed the birds. Hoping they could lead him to freedom.

After running for ten minutes, Sam witnessed the birds landing in a park, beside the lake. Sam breathed in and out, trying to get air into his lungs. Everything was spinning and the lake looked like the sky. Feathers were dancing around him.

Sam trod across the grass. Nobody was around. Sam was all alone.

A white bird crashed down in front of Sam, flapping his wings oddly. It appeared injured. Sam knelt down the ground and gently picked the bird up. The bird thrashed in his hand, screeching and cawing nonstop.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Sam said. He calmed the bird by petting it. "You're hurt. That's all—" Sam panicked as the bird turned black and pecked his hand, harshly.

As Sam dropped the bird, it poof into a thousand little feathers. Sam gasped, tumbling back onto the grass in horror.

"Sam!" He heard Dean's voice. "There you are!"

Looking at his brother with watery eyes, Sam crawled back, while stammering, "Get away from me!" This wasn't Dean. This was a demon.

Sam tried to fight Dean when he lift him up, but all his energy was gone. He was exhausted and dizzy, without knowing what was happening Sam sagged onto Dean.

"Sam? Sam!" Dean shouted in concern. Sam caught a glimpse of Dean's face: eyes snapped wide open and jaws clenching. He felt Dean wrapping his arms around him, trying to keep him steady.

Then a cool hand rested on his forehead. Sam grunted. When he moved upwards to stand up straight, he got light-headed and ended up back on Dean's collarbone. Sam inhaled Dean's scent— He smelled good, like cinnamon and pine mixed together.

Was this even real? It was because Sam could feel his refreshing body. Dean was really holding him, up close.

It suddenly occurred to him that whatever he was seeing earlier was not real. Everything was an illusion. There was no birds on the lake when Sam craned his neck to look. Everything was fake. Sam was delirious.

"Fuck! Sam, you're burning up!" Dean panicked as he pulled his hand back. He huffed as he held Sam's whole body weight. Oh no... This was not good.

Sam blinked his eyes before everything engulfed him in darkness. Last thing he heard was Dean calling out to him.

* * *

His body was freezing and his breath was trembling, Sam's eyes fluttered open, then gasped when he saw the tub filled with cold water and ice. Was someone trying to carve his kidneys out?

Sam made an attempt to climb out, only to slide down. His arm wouldn't stop moving and goosebumps formed on his skin as he shivered. Sam recoiled as arms came towards him.

"Sam, calm down! It's just me. Your brother," Dean proclaimed. "Easy, man." Dean wrapped him in a warm blanket after he helped him out of the tub. "You had a high fever: 104. I had to submerge you in cold water. You probably got sick when we killed the lake monster! That was three days ago, Sam. Why didn't you say anything?"

Honestly? Sam didn't know. He hadn't been caring about his health lately.

He lowered his head to stare on the floor. He watched his soaking clothes dripped onto the tile floor, making a small puddle beneath his feet.

Abruptly, Dean cupped his cheeks to make him look directly at him. Sam's eyebrows knitted together. Dean seemed worried and hurt altogether. The touch didn't bother Sam because Dean would do it all the time as a kid or whenever he was hurt. Although, he was just surprised that Dean still cared for him. It hadn't been the same in several months. Jesus Christ. Five fucking months.

"Talk to me, Sam," Dean pleaded.

"I don't know..."

Dean frowned, but he didn't press on. Instead he gave Sam a set of clothes to change and told him to call if he needed help. Sam changed and put on warm clothes before heading out of the bathroom.

He was even more confused when he noticed that the motel room had two twin beds. Dean was sitting on the side he would usually get, right. Sam was speechless.

"W-What are you doing here?" Sam couldn't do this. He couldn't have Dean near him.

"Take it easy," Dean said, rushing up to him. "How are you feeling?"

Sam had his arms around him, hugging himself for comfort. He chewed on his lower lip. Sam didn't want to get his hopes up high... that there was a chance of everything going back to normal. Before Dean found out about his love for him.

"G-Good. H-Have a small headache," Sam admitted, stammering a bit. He glanced away since he felt like a monster looking at his brother. Sam's chest was aching and he wanted to cry. It had been too long since Dean cared for him. All Sam wanted was for him to hold him and assure him everything would be alright.

"Here. Drink water and take this." Dean offered him a glass of water and a painkiller.

Sam happily took it.

"Thank you, Dean."

After that, Sam headed to his bed. He was still shivering under the layers of blanket. No matter what he did he couldn't fucking stop his teeth from chattering. The room was dark, and Dean was already asleep. Sam needed to do the same.

He tossed and turned for twenty minutes. His flesh felt like he was in the cold tub again, even though his cheeks were warm and probably red. Sam berated himself for not taking good care of himself. He knew it was because he slept in his soaking clothes the day they killed the lake monster.

Sam was causing nothing but trouble for Dean. Like always...

He shifted on his side and stared at the wall, seeing a dim streak of light that came from the window across the room. Every time a car passed the window or motel, the room grew brighter before going back into darkness.

He must have been loud because Dean groaned and slipped out of his bed. "Quit moving," he grumbled, "I can hear you."

"S-Sorry," Sam apologized, teeth clinking together.

Dean sighed, exasperated. He pulled off his covers and chided, "You're not supposed to be covered up, Sammy. You have a fever! You gotta let this ride out. Can't have you go all loony on me like you did today."

Overwhelmed with guilt, Sam began to tear up and let out sniffles, much to Dean's dismay. He didn't know why he was being so emotional. Demons could tell him shit and Sam wouldn't care, but with Dean, he did. Tremendously.

"Don't cry, kiddo."

Sam tried, but failed, instead he muffled his cries under a pillow so Dean wouldn't hear. Out of nowhere the bed dipped and then Sam felt Dean's cool body against his. His heart skipped a beat, feeling confused and scared. He was stiff like a board.

"I know you're freaking out because I'm not that far from behind. Look... I know I've been pretty shitty with you, Sam." Dean's voice lowered, regret underneath his tone. "Whatever you're going through with  _that_ —" Sam stopped breathing when Dean mentioned  _it_. His love for him. Dean never ever talked about it. But he was now. "—I don't blame you. The way we grew up together... was not healthy and we only had each other to rely on."

Sam let out a sob for a completely different reason.

"I was disgusted at first," Dean admitted. "Still a little in shock. But you're my baby brother. Nothing's going to change that." Dean put an arm around Sam's middle, assuring him that he still loved him. As family.

Sam half-heartedly chuckled and gasped to breathe in. "You shouldn't do this, Dean. You're going to give me wrong ideas," he warned in a whisper. Sam knew Dean didn't like hearing about it but Sam needed to remind him. Otherwise his mind would be filled with thoughts of hope that would never come true.

"Want me to stop?"

"No..." he answered weakly. Sam felt home in Dean's arms. "Thank you." The only response he got from Dean was him tightening his grip.

For the first time, Sam slept peacefully as he heard Dean's steady heartbeats.

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me with what you feel about this story?! Any heartfelt emotions?


End file.
